


I guess you were my destination

by dianna44



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Airport au!, Fluff, Football Player Louis, M/M, Paramedic Harry, SO MUCH FLUFF, idk this is stupid fluff oops, semi-famous Louis, that's really it I guess, this is based on a true story that happened to me no joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianna44/pseuds/dianna44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis, a semi-famous footballer, breaks his knee on a plane. Harry is his paramedic. Fluff ensues. </p>
<p>{the au in which this is based on a true story of when I sprained my knee on a plane that was going to be headed to chicago for an orchestra trip and because I'm bitter, I wrote a story about it}</p>
            </blockquote>





	I guess you were my destination

**Author's Note:**

> this really is based on a true story. I am still bitter (it happened last saturday) and this story came about. I, however, did not get to fall in love with some cute boy and was instead picked up by my mother and then bedridden at home as she refurnishes our bathroom. so. yeah.
> 
> ~enjoy the fluff~
> 
> oh yeah and I know shit about the doncaster rovers' coaches and stuff but whatever. also the whole paramedic and doctor situation is based on what happened to me, but I don't remember much about it as it hurt too much, but yeah.
> 
> this is fiction.  
> so.  
> yeah.

For some strange reason, the first thing Louis smelled was rubber when he pushed open the doors to the airport. Rubber. Why even?

Louis shouldered his backpack and looked around him, thankful that there didn’t seem to be very many people. He’d rather not get crowded. It’s not as if he usually does, but it’s happened before. He can honestly say that when he was signed onto the Doncaster Rovers, he didn’t expect to ever be crowded by a hoard of fans, demanding pictures and autographs as if he was some hot shot actor or something.

Besides, it’s got to be almost seven in the morning right now and he figures that everyone else here also would rather not be bothered. Yeah. He gets that.

Besides, he’s not even that recognizable, beanie on and a pair of jeans his mum gave him last Christmas fitting him in all the right places (his modesty is courtesy of online forums dedicated to the subject that is Louis Tomlinson's arse).

Louis sighs when he gets in line to get his boarding pass. There is one other person in front of him and only three stations opened, all occupied by girls who all look to be in uni and friends. The man in front of him looks bored. Louis can relate.

After getting his boarding pass and being sent off with a cheery, “Have a good time in America!” (yeah, right), he makes his way over to security, which will undoubtedly take forever, no matter how many people are in front of him. Louis swears that the temperature dropped a few degrees when he situated himself in line and he can feel the sharp gaze of the security man on him. Louis shifts his feet uncomfortably. Just let him get on the damn plane so he can go do this stupid new week-long training regime his coach is making him do.

He remembers the indignation that their coach received when he told them that they’d be going to America to do this stupid thing (no one still understands why). Louis huffs in response to his thoughts and then it’s his turn. He’s certain he’s good on what he’s carrying, but he figures he’ll probably get checked anyway.

He does and after being patted down, he makes his way over to his gate, irritated and tired. Just let him get on the fucking plane already.

Louis has to wait twenty more minutes before they start boarding his plane and Louis gets up, sips the coffee he bought one more time, and throws it away as he walks over to the bloke to check his pass. He can tell the man recognizes him by the way his eyes widen and by the way his mouth opens a little in what looks to be awe as Louis nears.

Louis’ expecting an immediate reaction when he finally gets over there to hand him his boarding pass, but the man doesn’t say anything as he looks down at the pass, scans the name, and back up at Louis, who’s waiting expectantly. He watches the man turning the wheels in his head; Louis wonders what exactly he’s thinking about.

Still, he has to hand it to the bloke for not getting too excited and saying something he’ll probably regret until he’s taking back his checked pass.

“You’re Tommo, right? I’m a huge fan. Rooting for you in the next game,” he says sincerely and Louis smiles at him, seeming much more chipper than how he actually feels. He’s learned that glaring at anybody who disturbs him when he doesn’t want to be talked to only gets people to stir up nasty rumors about him that don’t even make sense, so now he just smiles all the time.

“Hey, thanks mate,” he says. He sees the bloke’s hands twitching and knows what he wants to say, but won’t ask. Louis does it for him. “Did you want an autograph?” He manages to say it casually enough to appease the man and the man’s face brightens considerably after Louis offered. He nods and brings out a random piece of paper and pen for Louis to sign. Louis just smiles at him in return before taking the pen to sign his name with a flourish. Really, Louis’ learned to do everything with a flourish now.

“Thanks, Tommo,” the man breathes out, looking at his signature in awe. Louis just sends him another chipper grin, already wishing he was on the airplane. So many niceties.

“Anytime, mate,” he replies. “Thanks for being a fan.” And with that, Louis’ walking toward the plane, already imagining the bliss he’ll feel when he gets to sit down and sleep. Isn’t that always the dream?

When he walks into the plane, he scans it, noting the few random people sitting in a variety of places. This airplane doesn’t have any assigned seats and he can tell everyone seems to be pretty antisocial, each person sitting at least two rows from the other, which is fine with Louis. Louis looks to the back and notices the blank rows and starts to head back there. Honestly, he just wants to sit down.

' _Maybe I jinxed it’_ , is the first thing Louis thinks as he turns his body to sit down on the plane because suddenly, he hears an awful pop and a sharp pain shoot up his left leg. Of fucking course. Louis looks down, tears pricking at his eyes and he sees his left knee completely deformed and suddenly, Louis _can’t fucking walk._

Louis takes a deep breath and lets out a frustrated wail. It’s fucking broken. His knee is broken. He’s broken enough bones in his body to know when something is broken or sprained, and _Louis just broke his fucking knee trying to sit down._

“Oh my god!” A voice cuts through his thoughts and Louis’ gaze snaps up to meet the gaze of a middle-aged woman staring at him in horror. “Oh my _god!_ ”

Louis’ breathing heavily now and tries to bring his hand up to wipe away the tears forming, but he can’t _fucking move_. The pain is starting to invade his mind and Louis feels his breaths become more uneven and he knows he’s panting now. _Holy fuck it hurts._

He’s trying to sit down, but he can’t move without feeling a pain that should not exist in this world and so he’s just there, standing and holding himself up with both hands on each chair to the side of him. The lady’s apparently contacted the stewardess and she’s frantically walking down to meet him now.

“Sir? Are you oka—oh dear,” she exclaims, catching sight of Louis’ knee. Louis’ panting, the breaths and pain wracking throughout his body and the stewardess stares for one full more second before calling out to someone to come and help him. Louis can’t fucking move and he can feel his body going into panic mode as the pain travels throughout his mind. _Fucking hell it hurts._

“Miss…I can’t sit down,” he manages to pant through the traitor tears that are falling. “I can’t…move at…all.” He tries to not look at the knee, in fear that his mind will start freaking himself out so he looks away, at the gray airplane seat to the right of him. He watches his hands clench onto the chair so hard that his hand starts to turn white.

_Holy fucking hell can someone help him already?_

And then suddenly, there’s warm hands settling on his arm and shoulder. He shifts his gaze to the source of the warm hands and is immediately met with the prettiest man he’s ever seen in the entirety of his being. Louis has to blink to try and take in how pretty the boys curls are and his green green eyes, but he’s pulled away when he sees the man’s lips start to move. He stares at him, realizing that everything is silent, when it dawns on him that he must have asked him a question.

“I’m sorry. What?” His hands grip into the chairs harder. Fuck, his knee hurts.

“I asked if you could move your knee at all, Mr. Tomlinson,” he says, voice overcoming him like warm honey and cupcakes. Okay, what in the fuck? Louis blinks again and shakes his head furiously.

“No. No. I can’t. It’s broken. I can’t move it. I can’t even fucking sit down,” he pants out, the realization that he’s sweating profusely in front of this beautiful specimen of a human being dawning on him with a sense of dread. Of fucking course.

“Yes, it looks broken. I’m with the paramedics. There is a gurney waiting outside. Do you think you can sit down at all? If not, then I’m afraid, we’ll have to put you under quickly and pop it back into place.”

That quickly brings Louis’ attention away from the beauty of the bloke because _what?_ Louis does not think that sounds like a good plan in any way, shape, or form. Just… _no._

“Uhm. I’m going to try and sit down,” he says, focusing on his hands, still grasping onto the chairs as if they were his lifeline. Well, they sort of are.

He tries to bend down, but the pain is too much and everything is just too much, so he keeps holding himself up pathetically. He’s panting, tears streaming down his face now because _it hurts, why does it hurt so fucking much?_

“Can you not sit down?” the man asks and Louis looks up to meet his gaze and he just looks so concerned for him that it could be considered endearing. If not for the hanging threat of putting him under wasn’t laying heavy on his head.

Louis’ eyes widen as that fear grips him. He’s always hated anesthesia. He loathes it. It terrifies him. He shakes his head wildly.

“Fuck this,” he grunts out before just letting go and sitting down and _holy fucking hell almighty how can this hurt so fucking much holy fuck._ He’s crying now, full out bawling, but he’s sitting and it looks as if he’s knee has pushed back into place, although he knows he broke something. Fuck. He can feel the man’s hands soothing him and he’s saying something that sounds so pretty to his ears. Maybe it’s just his voice. Louis cannot think right now.

“Is there something we can wheel him out on?!” the man calls out, still rubbing Louis’ back and arm. Louis’ shaking all over, the pain is just too much, but Louis’ calmed down enough to stop his tears. _‘Just breathe’,_ he thinks idly to himself.

“We have the aisle chair!” the stewardess replies immediately. Louis’ still shaking, but the man’s hands are still rubbing him soothingly.

“Do you think you can move yourself just a bit to get yourself on this chair over here?” he asks, rubbing his shoulder.

Fucking hell, whose hands can be this warm?

Louis attempts to move, but shakes his head, when his knee so as much moves. It hurts too much. The man nods and Louis can only stare at him as the man wraps his arms around his back and suddenly, he’s sort of cradling him. Oh geez. Louis’ being _cradled how embarrassing._ His whole body is warm, it seems, because Louis’ face is suddenly pushed into his torso and Louis’ still shaking because his knee hurts too much. It’s all too much. This happened at the worst time. Well, maybe not as it’s not during a game. That’s always been the worst time.

He’s placed in the aisle chair with such care that it tugs at Louis’ heart and the man is suddenly pushing him, sometimes having the crappy ass wheels get stuck on the side of the chairs. Honestly, these aisles are ridiculously small.

Louis still can’t fucking move, but one of the man’s hands is still on his shoulder, rubbing and Louis lets out a deep sigh. He wants to get out of this damn plane.

Fuck. He just wanted to sit down.

“Where’s…my bag?” he asks, after his eyes flew open in a panic since he can’t feel it on his back. The man lets out a shaky laugh.

“I have it here, Mr. Tomlinson,” he says. Louis can’t turn around to look, but he frowns at the use of his last name once more. How does he know his name? Ah…wait.

“Are you a fan?” is what he finally asks, trying to distract himself from the nerve-wracking pain that is his knee. 

“Uhm sort of. I’m more Manchester United myself, but I’m a fan of you,” he replies. Louis can feel the hand on his shoulder stiffen as he starts to wheel him up the long secluded walkway leading to the plane. “Uhm, not like that. I mean…well, I mean, you’re a great football player. Uh…” Louis grins in spite of himself at the way he trails off awkwardly. He decides to make it easy on the poor bloke.

“It doesn’t seem fair to me that you know my name, but I don’t know yours,” is what he says. _‘Smooth, Tomlinson. Smooth.’_

The pretty man laughs and his hand on Louis’ shoulder tightens a bit. Louis can feel it all the way down to his toes and it distracts him for one second from the terrible pain from his stupid knee.

“Oh. My name’s Harry. Styles. Er. Harry Styles,” he says, and Louis can’t help but laugh at the way he delivered that. Harry Styles. Yeah. That’s a name Louis could get used to screaming in bed.

Louis blinks, surprised by his thoughts and tries to duck his head as if Harry heard him.

Louis’ so fucking single.

“Well, your name sounds like a pop star,” Louis responds cheekily before wincing in pain as Harry accidentally hits a small bump rolling Louis into the lobby. Is that what it’s called? The airport lobby? Or is it just an airport? Louis has no fucking clue.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Harry exclaims. Louis waves him off.

“It’s alright, Harry,” he says. It really was. It’s not as if Harry made it worse. The whole situation sucks anyway.

“Still. I’m the paramedic and I can’t even roll you out properly to do an actual analysis. Did I tell you I think you broke or fractured something? I can’t do a proper assessment here though. You’ll be taken to the hospital,” he informs Louis. Louis sighs. He hates hospitals.

“Do they have cute paramedics like you there as well?” Louis flirts and Louis blinks because well…that was unexpected. Oops?

Harry’s hand tightens on his shoulder again and like…that has to means something, right? Shit. Is Harry even interested in guys? But then Harry laughs and Louis realizes he was freaking out over nothing.

“Sadly, no, but then again, I don’t think they get any patients as fit as you either,” he replies and Louis smiles because _he’s flirting back._

“Oh, it’s all a shame really,” Louis lamely replies because he’s too flustered to think of anything else and seriously? What is this? Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson does not get flustered. This is ridiculous.

Before Beautiful Harry can get the chance to respond, he’s being lifted up onto the gurney, while everyone around them watches with wide eyes, including the earlier bloke who asked for his autograph and Harry. He can tell the guys pushing the gurney are ready to leave so Louis makes a grab for Harry.

“Wait. Harry. Wait!” he gripes at the men trying to push him along. Seriously. His knee is not going to get worse if they wait one minute. It’s just a broken knee, that yes does hurt an incredible amount, but Harry’s cute so, everyone else can just suck it for a while. The two blokes stopped pushing his gurney and Louis’ realizes he needs a pen. “Does anyone have a pen?”

Harry smiles, confusion etched all over his face, but reaches in his pocket and _of course_ he has a pen. Louis grabs it from his hands before he even gets the chance to offer it to him and he grabs Harry’s arm along with it. Harry still looks highly confused. Louis just huffs.

“W-what are you doing?” he asks. Louis ignores him and starts to press the pen down. Harry immediately retracts his arm. “Look, Tomlinson, it’s fine. I don’t need an autograph.” Louis huffs again and grabs his arm again. Stubborn twat.

“It’s Louis and it’s not an autograph so hush,” he grumbles, starting to write his number down. Harry watches for a second and seems to realize because he grows incredibly red and has to look away it seems, in embarrassment. There’s an impatient cough from one of the gurney men, but Louis ignores them, ending his number off with a “make you sure you call me, twat –louis :)”.

He smiles, pleased at his handiwork and pats Harry’s arm once before he’s being pulled away. Harry looks down at his arm once and then back up at Louis, who’s just smiling at him. Harry gives him a shy smile in response and honestly, Louis’ knee is broken and Louis couldn’t care less because the cute boy is smiling at him.

Fuck. He’s a huge sap, isn’t he?

 

_§ three days later §_

 

Louis was right about his knee and he has a horribly broken knee, a high hospital bill, and a frustrated coach to show for it. It even made the news and if that wasn’t the worse thing that’s happened so far in his football career then he doesn’t know what is. Honestly! He broke his knee on a fucking plane trying to sit down, and he’s been the root of each joke from all of his teammates for the past three days. It’s annoying.

Plus, Harry the cute paramedic hasn’t called him and Louis’ a little down about that as well because that means that he truly got nothing out of this. Not even a date with a cute curly-headed man-child, it seems.

It’s frustrating.

The only good thing as of the moment is that he’s been released from the hospital and is now sitting comfortably at home while CBB plays on his television. It’s peaceful, he supposes, but he also wishes that he was in America, alive and well, rather than at home, alive and broken. How annoying. Seriously.

Plus, being here just reminds him about his wounded ego, especially when they started joking about it on the football channels.

Ugh.

He’s in the middle of watching Perez embarrass himself when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He rolls his eyes. It’s probably Niall and another stupid joke that somehow incorporates Louis and his broken knee into it because he is indeed a giant twat.

Honestly.

He pulls it out and looks down at it to see it’s a message from an unknown number. Huh.

He unlocks his phone to read it and as soon as he does, the biggest and stupidest grin is on his face because it’s _him._ It’s _Harry._

Louis takes a deep breath and tries to get into a more comfortable situation, but considering the fact that he’s pretty much bedridden, it’s quite hard.

_Hii Louis. This is Harry from the airport. Do you still want to uhm? Actually, I’m not sure why you put your number on me but well, this is my number. Did you want to hang out? I don’t know what to do here!!! –Harry :)_ _  
_

Louis grins and starts to type out his response, but then shrugs and decides, “fuck it, he’s gonna call him instead because why the fuck not?”

It’s on the third ring that Louis realizes that Harry could be busy and wouldn’t even be able to answer, which would only make Louis even more embarrassed, but then he hears a click and Harry’s warm voice greet him.

“Louis?” he asks.

“Hello, my hero without a cape,” Louis responds and _dear god, did he really just say that?_ What is wrong with him? Louis waits with dread, but then Harry’s beautiful laugh is filling the line and Louis smiles, pleased.

“Well, that’s a new title. I’ll add it right next to “Baker Extraordinaire” and “Cat Lover”,” he teases. Louis smiles, giddy. Wow. He maybe sort of has such a crush on Harry. How embarrassing.

“So Harry. I’m just going to do it. No pretenses, all right?” Louis’ down to business now. No backing out. Let’s do this.

“All right,” Harry agrees. Louis can hear the amusement in his voice. Good.

“Frankly, sweet hero of mine, I think that you’re quite cute. And fit. And nice. And basically, I’d love to take you out on a date,” he says firmly. _‘All business, Tommo. You’re a strong lad.’_

Harry laughs, delighted, it seems. “I’d love to, Louis.”

Louis grins to himself all alone in his big flat and his heart quickens. He lets out a shaky laugh.

“Okay. Spectacular. Although, we might have to do a dinner date at my house since I can’t quite walk so well. So there’s that,” he says, giddy and happy because Harry agreed to meet him. Ah. It really is a spectacular day, isn’t it? It becomes even more spectacular when Harry lets out another loud laugh.

“Okay. I guess I can agree to those awful terms of yours. So, tonight then? Or is that too soon? Shit, sorry,” he says. Louis is smiling so wide now that it hurts his face, but he doesn’t care.

“Tonight sounds great, Harry. I’ll text you the address after this conversation is over, okay?”

“Oh dang it. Another missed conversation,” Harry adds. Louis laughs even though he doesn’t know why. Harry just makes him happy, he guesses. Huh. How weird.

“You know, you’re quite lame, Harry Styles,” he grins into the phone.

Harry huffs and replies, “At least I didn’t break my knee sitting down on a plane.”

Louis mocks offense. “How very dare you! Insolence! Anyway, now I want you over now to entertain me more. Can you do that? Is that okay? Or are you busy? I am so sorry if I called you when you were busy.” Harry lets out another laugh and Louis decides that he’d very much like to have that set as his ringtone for the rest of his days.

“Geez, Louis. Calm down. I’m not busy, no, so I can come over. So you just want spend the day together? Even though you don’t know me?”

Louis smiles even wider. “Well, isn’t that the point, young Harold?”

There’s a long pause before Harry responds. “Well. I suppose it is, and I’d like very much to get to know you, Louis.”

Louis seriously cannot stop smiling. What is wrong with him. Geesh. He does have enough dignity to respond though even though it’s cheesy as hell. Sue him. Louis’ happy and sappy.

“I’d like very much to get to know you as well, Harry.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> what even was that ending ugh disgusting. 
> 
> anyway, I'm thinking about adding a sequel but it depends on what you thought of it, I guess. idk. 
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated :)
> 
> bai guys.
> 
> -DiAnna44 :)
> 
> tumblr: iwannapandanamedchubs  
> (too lazy to link as always sorry oops?)


End file.
